February 2012
145 posts
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I tired to forget but you grew roots around my ribcage and sprouted flowers just below my collarbones. all day I pluck their petals but I have not yet ascertained whether you love me or not
Art is the highest form of hope.
– Gerhard Richter
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You can never be free of their criticism until you no longer seek their praise.
– Dennis Ruane (via elige)